The other day I tried to take a photograph of Oliver that captured the view I have when I'm holding him with his head at my shoulder. It's best when he's on my left side because my left eye is long-sighted and I get him in a gorgeous blur of peachy skin, rosy cheeks, dark eyes and a soft focus profile of his tiny nose. I probably needed someone else to have the camera, I certainly didn't manage to take the picture I wanted. But I wonder whether it is possible to recreate it anyway - you can't smell a daffodil or get the same sense of summer approaching just by looking at a picture of one. With Oli, it's more than just a snapshot, it's the warm weight of his body on mine, the smell of his superfine hair, my lips on his warm temples, the 'haaarrr' noises he makes, his little hands with kitten claws gripping my arm, and the way he might fling himself back at any moment just to test his own security. And in a second the whole little circle of love we have going is gone...Oli has shifted to get a better vantage on what Max is up to or I need to put him down to turn off a boiling saucepan or mend a broken train track. But the other night Oli found his toes and I did manage to take a picture. In fact I called the whole family in to his bedroom so they too could witness the flexible dexterity of our little contortionist.
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